


Con(da)e(mned).

by BornToBeBeheaded



Series: Going To Hell. [2]
Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (Movies 1984-1994), Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: AFAB! Reader - Freeform, Asking For Forgiviness, Asking For Premission, Begging, Biting, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Catholicism, Confession, Creampie, Degradation, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingering, Freddy Being A Bastard, General Defacing Of Relgious Symbols And Icongography, Glory Hole-ish?, Interesting Use Of Rosary Beads, Manhandling, Manipulation, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Penance - Freeform, Riding, Rough Oral Sex, Taking the lord's name in vain, Throat Fucking, Vaginal Sex, praying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornToBeBeheaded/pseuds/BornToBeBeheaded
Summary: Sequel To W(h)or(e)ship. You are still living it up and enjoying your utterly filthy, depraved and headonistic life with your favorite dream demon fuck buddy. The relgious edge to your sexual games continues on.
Relationships: Freddy Krueger & Reader, Freddy Krueger & You, Freddy Krueger/Reader, Freddy Krueger/You
Series: Going To Hell. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174781
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Con(da)e(mned).

**Author's Note:**

> Oh fucking GOD! OKAY! So I always really loved W(h)or(e)ship and wanted to do a follow-up to it at somepoint and the inspo finally hit me JUST right today! I wrote most of this all today and couldn't be happier with it. Feels good and like I really utiized all that I could with this idea. Hope you all enjoy this utter filth! As always feedback, ideas, suggestions and requests are all encouraged, leave a comment here or shoot and ask to my tumblr, bisexual-horror-fan, thank you so much for reading and as always, enjoy!

You had no recollection of making the decision to do this. Walking down the long hallway, through the foyer of the church your family attended. You were on a mission today, something important, but again you weren’t sure how you even got here, not remembering driving here. You shook the feeling off, no matter, you were here and had every intention of following through. 

And yet you paused having arrived in front of your destination. 

Hesitating.

It had been so long. 

You took a deep breath, hoping it would steady you. 

“C’mon. You can do this.”

You whispered to yourself and with your eyes falling closed you reached forward and your hand closed around the handle, you pulled the door open and strode inside. You turned and sat, the door fell closed and only then opened your eyes, finally releasing that breath you had been holding. 

A hard swallow and you shifted in your seat before looking next to you. The clear silhouette in the booth next to you through the grated window. 

You were not alone. 

And you started, fingers lacing together in your lap and you averted your eyes and spoke,

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned.”

“Tell me of your sins then my child.”

Him speaking startled you but to be fair you really should have expected it. Another deep breath before continuing. 

“I suppose I should start with the fact that I have recently begun attending church again after quite a long absence.”

“What prompted this absence?”

You should be honest. 

“Foolishness? Youthful rebellion against my parents?”

‘Did it matter?’

The thought was clear in your mind and yet you didn’t vocalize it because you imagine he wouldn’t take kindly to that and would surely try to argue that it was important. 

“And what caused you to return?”

This was the hard part.

Actual confession. You were reminded of your very first confession in this moment. Much younger, sitting in this same booth all those years ago, being prompted and having no sins to confess. It was hilarious in comparison to you now. You felt almost as small as you did then when you had nothing to confess. Now you had too much to tell.

“My intentions for returning to the faith are not that pure.”

You had started attendance again after a truly delicious dream, one that others might call a nightmare but to you? A literal dream come fucking true. You seeing that awful monster who helped you indulge in your favorite sinful activities, it had been so damn good previously but one night he escalated it by a wide margin. A recreation of this same church your family attended, you being made to hold his cock to the hilt inside of you as you prayed and he teased and cut you. Getting split open and fucked on the carpeted aisle, pews on either side, your back sticky with blood and sweat, it was too fucking good. 

So you started attending church again. Your family was happy, convinced you had seen their way and were finding God’s light again but far from it. You continued going to relive that dream, you loved it, sitting next to your family, taking part in the usual things but with a different edge. You on your knees praying and thinking of that night you prayed in a different context, when you were listening to the priest speak and preach your thighs pressed closer together as your mind wandered and as you stood to join in on singing the hymns you felt yourself leaking into your panties under your proper church clothes. 

It was so hot, picturing those things while your family and fellow parishioners were totally unaware. You would go home after Sunday service and could barely get in the door of your apartment before your hand was in your panties, hot and wet and needy, desperate to get off, the fact you were still in your Sunday best only adding to it. Your skirt pulled up, back against the door, one hand busy below your waist, two fingers stuffed in your leaking pussy and the other hand gripping your throat, your thoughts on him, that demon that haunts your dreams and is straying you ever further from your faith. 

He questioned you and it pulled you from your thoughts,

“Oh no?”

“No.”

Another deep breath and you said it,

“I have recently begun attending Sunday services for reasons other than becoming reacquainted with the faith. Reasons of a lustful nature.”

A pause.

Fuck this was still hard. 

“Go on.”

“I-I have been having these dreams. Shamefully arousing dreams, I come to church to be reminded of them.”

And what was worse, you leaned so heavily into this practice because you hadn’t had another religious centered sex dream with him since that first one. You still saw him, still did filthy things, but not that, you wanted it but certainly weren’t about to ask for it, wouldn’t debase yourself to beg for that. You kept talking, near rambling,

“-I sit next to my family and I cannot stop myself, I find I actually enjoy it more that they have no idea I feel this way. They simply think that I am devoting myself to God again and are overjoyed by this and the truth is-”

The the voice in the booth next to you cutting you off, it sounded so fucking familar, deep and rough, speaking harshly,

“You are really just thinking about satisfying that dripping cunt of yours.”

Your heart nearly stopped. You asked, startled, 

“Wh-what?”

“I said, that is terrible but understandable.”

Softer, sweeter, like before, were you going crazy? He continued, 

“Lust is the easiest of the sins to succumb to and you cannot help what you dream about. You can however control what you do when you are awake. I suggest you do some Hail Mary’s to atone.”

A sigh of relief. 

“Thank you Father. I uh do not have any rosary beads of my own however-”

A laugh from the other side of that grate. That laugh started off easy and again the tone changed and as the fear started to settle in your stomach, palms sweating, you wiped them off on your skirt, feeling so much unease and he spoke again, 

“Course you don’t you useless slut.”

The grate separating your booth from him slid open and then something that made you throb. 

The glove. 

His glove.

The one that had provided so much pain and pleasure and more. His hand was palm up, a set of rosary beads hanging off of the blade on his index finger, swinging slightly, and you were fully confronted with this. You were not awake. This was another dream of his making, of course he knew you wanted this, desperate for more of this awful kind of playtime with him. You didn’t have to beg, he could see into your head, and manipulated this perfectly, you didn’t suspect a single thing, you had totally believed you were awake and really attempting confession. 

But now that you were confronted with this you realized how silly that was. Part of being in such a convincing dream was how sincerely you felt what he wanted you to, your feelings being led by him. You loved this too, you did feel a bit bad but not enough to actually try to confess and take penance for it, fuck that. You adored yourself, how you were, your lifestyle and how you leaned into depravity and hedonism. You had fully abandoned faith, didn’t care about that past part of your life anymore, but the vestiges of it from your youth clung and made for a hot and addicting addition in your playtime with the dream demon himself Freddy Krueger. 

You looked, peering into his side to see that smug face, holding out those beads, he spoke, surprisingly casual as he greeted you, 

“Hey.”

A bite of your bottom lip before responding, soft, now that you were aware of what this was really going to be, you were so fucking excited for it as you greeted him in kind, 

“Hi.”

His expression turning a little more serious as he flexed that blade and urged you, 

“Hurry up whore. Start begging for forgiveness”

You took the beads, plucking them carefully off his blade and you sat back in the chair, necklace wrapped around your hand, the motion was practically muscle memory, thumb resting on the first bead as you let out a sigh. Rolling it slightly, it felt familiar but not in a necessarily comforting way, and you started but were stopped quickly. 

“What are you doing?”

You glanced to see him, of course he was watching you, clearing your throat before responding to him, 

“I-I was about to start reciting-”

He cut you off, interrupting you again, as expected of him, a laugh with a dismissive wave of that glove and he said, 

“You are going about it all wrong.” 

Now what did he mean by that? 

The confused look from you prompted him further, a roll of his eyes before he said, 

“Fuckin’ hell. Do I have to spell out every little thing to you?”

Pressing your thighs together, fuck, him talking to you like that always got to you. Anyone else speaking to you like that wouldn’t be tolerated but when he did it? Well it turned you on much more than it rightfully should. 

“I know you by now, what you really want. And you also know how this should go.”

You did know what you were here for. You had no illusions about what this arrangement between you both was, this was only supposed to about hooking up, kink and filth and sex. But what did he want from you in this moment? He asked you to pray in hopes of getting forgiveness, when you attempted it he chastised you, and so he spelt it out. 

“You have more than one hand, don’t you?”

Oh Jesus fucking Chirst. 

So let’s really lay this out. 

You, asleep and dreaming, in this confessional booth, being watched by your personal murderous fuck buddy and prompted to pray and masturbate at the same time. And you wanted to. You actually wanted to and even with the slight shame and hesitation you weren’t about to say no. 

So you started.

Legs spreading, skirt hiking up, you were already so turned on, just the confession on it’s own before you realized it was him, had aroused you, and that said all kinds of terrible things about you but you didn’t worry about that right now. Your hand falling between your legs, fingers starting slowly and easily, a sigh crossing your lips as you felt the already damp fabric. With your other hand holding the rosary you began properly. 

The first time you said it? That was easy, clear, even with him watching you, it was so simple from all the previous practice you had over the years, that prayer burned in your mind, 

“Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou-”

He watched, eyes dragging over you, leaning on one hand under his chin, resting on the edge of the window he was viewing you through, the sight of you was a fucking good one. Skirt pulled up, thighs on display, fingers slowly rubbing circles through your panties, chest rising and falling, your other hand gripping those beads so tightly as you spoke, looking over to him, the mix of pleasure and shame clear on your face. 

You had given up on organized religion and didn’t care but that didn’t change the fact that this was still a lot to handle. I mean based off of all your previous years in the faith made this all the better, the heady mess of how turned on you were with the trepidation and things inside telling that this was wrong, terrible, you shouldn’t be doing this, made it so much fucking better. 

Who ever could have predicted that moral quandary made such a good aphrodisiac?

And so as you went along, it got worse. Several Hail Mary’s in by this point. Your voice getting shakier, breathy, breaking apart with moans as you attempted to continue doing as he wished, 

“-am-ong women, an-and bless-oh blessed is the fruit of thy-”

He was obviously enjoying it. That damn smug smirk, your panties were drenched by this point, you were far too into this, your gaze flicked to him and as if reading you mind, because he knew you didn’t want to break your stride and stop praying he said, 

“Do it. Lose em.”

Fuck yes. 

You stopped touching yourself for now, feet flat on the ground you got up enough, one hand still gripping the rosary, your other hand coming under your skirt and pulling your panties down, and soon you were sitting back down, wet fabric bunched and hanging off of one ankle. Legs spread again and you were right back into it, you hadn’t stopped praying but when your fingers touched down again you couldn’t help the moan that espcaped, having direct contact felt so fucking amazing. Much better now that you were free of your underwear the sensation was so much stronger, no longer damped by the extra layer, much more intense as your fingers circled your clit, spreading your ample wetness over sensitive flesh. 

“Ohhh Holy Mary, Mother Of Goddd-” 

You dragging it out, it fit the moment well, he couldn’t help but laugh just a little, you didn’t care. Your eyes falling closed and you pressed harder, and then your thighs started trembling, it felt damn good, pleasure building, you were moaning more, breathing harder, hard as fuck to keep what you were saying straight, 

“Pr-pray for us-shit! Oh-us sinners! Now an-and at the hour of-ugh-of our death! Amen!”

“Looks like you are really struggling there slut.”

A frantic nod, fingers slipping and sliding over your clit, as you were still rambling that prayer, the words held no meaning as you parroted them out, chest heaving, so much heat running through you. Just fuck, you could feel your clit pulsing under your touch, you were getting closer and closer still and it was clear, he knew it. 

“So worked up. I think you might be really sorry. Might be willing to let you cum.”

Dear God, yes, you wanted that so desperately, you looked to him, mouth still spilling out nonsense, words that weren’t your own mixed with words that could be mistaken for nothing but yours. The curses and moans feeling so right and comfortable against your tongue, unlike the prayer that felt the opposite, foreign and wrong and very unlike you. 

“Awe yeah you want that? Wanna cum so fuckin’ bad that you are willing to do it here?”

His glove reached out and the tips of those blades brushed over your knee and you shivered, another quick nod as you continued chanting out those same words nearly under your breath, really lost in the rhythm of what you were doing. 

“Well let’s see how bad you really want it.”

Leaning further through the window, non-gloved hand gripping your thigh and that made you pause what you were saying briefly, moaning as his hand made contact with you, nearly overwhelming as was standard when he graced you with his touch. He spread your legs further and his other hand reached out, two of those blades hooking into that necklace and tugging down. 

“Why don’t you get a little creative with these if you really want to cum.”

The emphasis he put on ‘really’ as well as the implication of what he said made you pulse and nearly slip over the edge you were dangling on but you held on. You swallowed hard and decided that yes, you wanted it that fucking badly, fuck any semblance of morality. Your hand pulled away from your dripping core and with shaking hands you readied yourself. Feet coming up onto the seat of the chair, legs spread wide, fully on display, and with another deep breath you were ready. Beads brought below your waist, hands pulling them taut, positioning them just so and you began to move, drawing them over yourself, polished marble bringing a different kind of sensation, ribbed and bumping as you dragged them through your folds and over your straining clit. 

“Fuck-ing hell-”

You breathed, eyes rolling back, you never thought you would do this, it never even being a possibility that entered your filthy little mind but here you were, doing it, and loving every moment of it. You’d think that it would have taken a long while to reach the edge again after pausing and switching methods but fuck no. Him watching, your own personal voyeur, as you did what had to be the dirtiest thing you ever had up until this point, getting off on the rosary as you prayed and writhed and moaned, and dripped, fuck did you drip. You were leaking onto the chair below and the sound? Of those beads knocking together and running over your soaked flesh, it sounded the very definition of obscene along with the chorus of your moans and sturggled breaths, a personal and private hymn with it’s own fucked up melody performed only for him in between your prayers. 

And then he reached out again, hands finding the middle of the cardigan you had on, and ripping the front open, buttons breaking off and you gasped feeling the cool air on the freshly exposed skin. It was needed, you were feeling far too hot for the sweater but certainly didn’t want to stop touching yourself to make that happen and he, ever so helpful, did that for you. You didn’t stop, you kept going and as did he, blade on his index finger dipping into the front of your tank top, between your breasts in your cleavage and down it dragged, splitting the fabric easily. You were breathing so fucking hard, how were you meant to take this? It was so damn good, your head was swimming, no thoughts other than the need to tip over and cum and fully commit, condemn yourself to hell. 

Because if you weren’t going before? You sure were now and you didn’t care, how good this felt was worth it. 

Your hips were stirring too, aiding in your mission to get off, hands and hips moving together as you worked towards your end. 

Then a sound, drawing your eyes to him next to you, seeing him standing up and fuck, he was undoing his pants and your mouth was watering already at the prospect of him filling your mouth while doing this. You leaned forward and his non-gloved hand was in your hair, hard grip and he pulled you as he said, 

“Enough of that, I have a better use for that sinful mouth of yours.”

And your mouth fell open and you welcomed him easily, sliding into your mouth and you moaned around him. God he tasted so fucking good, he knew that you were pre-occupied, busy defiling yourself with that piece of iconography from your abandoned religion, so he again helped you out. Pulling you to his liking, drawing you forward and back, fucking into your waiting mouth, sliding in so deep you nearly gagged. You were shaking, not quite as close as before, attempting to please him as well as yourself made your hands and hips slow a bit, attempting to breath and suck as well made the edge back off and the climb slower, longer, more delicious. 

“What a vision. Look at the wrecked harlot you’ve become. You’d make your mother cry if she could see you right now.”

He was right and you didn’t care, you were sure anyone could be watching you in this moment and you wouldn’t stop, a nod, silent agreement as you moaned against his cock invading your mouth. He wasn’t taking it easy on you, rough, and you were so far gone that drool was leaking out the sides of your mouth, spilling down your chin and onto your neck and chest. His dirty talk helped you along too and soon you were there again. Trembling, looking up to him and he knew, he could tell, the view was fucking wonderful as you used those beads on yourself as he throat fucked you. 

“Close?”

“Mmhmmf-”

Was the best you could do for your reply with a bit of a nod as that gloved hand came down, one of those blades dragging over your cheek, the cut wasn’t deep but it made you inhale through your nose hard anyway. After the cut his blade tapped against your cheek, a hum like he was truly thinking about if you had earned it, you were right fucking there, trying to hold on, trying to wait for his word and just when you thought you wouldn’t be able to hang on a moment more he said that one blissful word, 

“Cum.”

And so you did. He was nice enough to pause his assault, just holding deep in your mouth, enjoying the view of you at the height of pleasure, shaking and slick with sweat as you came. It felt like heaven and was most assuredly the closest you would ever get to experiencing it now. He pulled out of your wet mouth and you looked up at him, unable to stop the smile on your face as your hands pulled away, with your feet still up on the chair your legs closing a bit, 

“Very impressive. I didn’t think you’d ACTUALLY do that.”

You did love surprising him. 

“Spread yourself.”

You listened and as his hand left your hair you leaned back in your chair, legs spreading and showing yourself off, fingers tangling in the rosary and fuck they were dripping wet with your slick and that made your face feel hot. 

“Fuck. You did such a good job making a mess of yourself, it’d be a shame to let that go to waste.”

Oh blessed be he was going to fuck you after all, thank fucking God. 

“Hurry up.”

He didn’t need to spell it out this time as you got up, your legs were still shaky as you were post orgasm but you managed, leaving your booth, panties abandoned behind you, totally forgotten. You raced to get into this side, door open and there he was, sitting in his chair, ready and waiting. 

Fuck.

And you came forward, entering his side and your hands found the hem of your skirt and you pulled it up and his non-gloved hand met your waist and pulled you into his lap. Your thighs on either side of his hips and before you could think of sinking down and taking his cock he held you still, 

“Hand em over.”

You realized you were still holding those beads, wrapped around your fingers and you held them out, allowing him to take them. 

“Behind your back.”

And you knew just what he had in mind and you were even more excited, zero hesitation on this one, all in, far too into it to question anything, hands where he wanted them and that same set of beads that you had made such a mess of was used to restrain your hands behind your back. Wrapped tightly around your wrists and you tugged and they held perfectly and he pulled you down and filled you, sliding in to the hilt with no resistance and you moaned his name. No rest for the wicked and no time to adjust as both of his hands were now on your waist, pulling you up before bringing you back down again, hard and it took you a minute to start moving as well. To start returning his efforts and it happened so quickly, nearly stealing your breath away as you angled your hips and hit that sweet spot inside of yourself. 

“Fu-fuck! Yes, oh my God-”

A laugh from him, a hard thrust up from below and he spoke, taunting you, 

“Totally fuckin’ ruined.”

You were. Completely destroyed, no mistaking it, you were totally lost, no saving you, no hope for your soul. You sold yourself for lust and sin and pleasure and the now, who gives a shit about tomorrow. Gloved hand slid up your side and it made you shiver, hips pausing as his hand dragged up and then drew over your front and he used those blades to cut the middle part of your bra, splitting it open exposing your chest fully to him, nicking your skin in the process and that made you whimper deliciously. You were tugging on the bindings on your wrists, they still felt damp and that made you clench down on him, a breathy moan leaving you as you nodded, in total fucking agreement,

“Ye-yeahhh, totally.”

A small laugh of your own until another brutal thrust that hit that spot inside of you just right and made your laugh break off into a groan and in turn that made you slam down harder, buck back onto him, so damn eager to fuck yourself on him and hopefully find your end again, cum stuffed full of him. 

His gloved hand drew up your back and the tips of those blades almost were breaking the skin but not quite, falling just short of that, but the sensation they provided all the same was incredible, teasing and tingling, it made you arch your back as you drank it in. Then that same gloved hand on the back of your neck, he pulled you closer, pressed to you, his other hand still gripping your hip, fucking up into you. Shit, being so close to him like this made it all the more intense, especially now that this shift in positioning provided lovely friction to your clit and that made it harder for you to continue moving with him. Luckily for you he was assisting you, yet again, using his grip on you to move you along, being so close together, meant you didn’t have to move much anyway, rolling your hips was a big help and made the sensation all the sweeter at the same time. 

Another added benefit of having you so close was it was all the easier to whisper more filth right in your ear and so he did,

“Really. I mean it. What an immoral, depraved and debauched little mess you are.”

Right. He was totally, 100% correct, unquestionably. Him speaking to you this way made it all worse, made you throb and your heart beat even harder than it already was somehow. 

“I would be tempted to even call you God-less but we both know that isn’t true.”

Another unforgivingly hard thrust that nearly made you sob, fucking hell you were already climbing that hill so fast, another futile tug on your bindings, not because you wanted to eqcape but because it made all this even better. You managed to get it out but barely, questioning just what he meant, 

“N-no?”

His face was practically buried in your neck now, a bite that made you yelp and your hips roll forward hard, that grind on your clit making your breath catch. Caught perfectly between pleasure and pain and barely handling it, struggling to endure it and what a beautiful and needed thing it was, your favorite. He answered you. 

“No. We know just what you worship.”

And then you felt his grip on the back of your neck tighten, those blades digging into your skin and it made you tremble, goosebumps breaking out over your skin, fear present once again, thick as the arousal plaguing you at this moment. It being so close to such a vulnerable part of you, damn it was a lot to take. And the implication, the call back and reminder of last time. He was right. You did have something you worshipped. 

“And it’s so obvious I don’t even have to fuckin’ say it.”

He was right. He didn’t have to spell out that fact, it was as plain as day. You were hardly holding on, it all becoming too much, the dirty talk, his glove, being so damn close to him, getting fucked so spectacularly, restrained and held so hard, you were close, dangerously close. He asked it so teasingly, 

“Am I right?”

Of course he was! But you knew what he wanted, you to say it, so before he asked and prompted you further you took the initiative on your own, 

“Yes! Yes, dear fuckin’ God! Yes! Okay!? Jesus-Please?!”

And he had better answer you quickly or you wouldn’t be able to hold back and a laugh from him, glove sliding onto your shoulder, a harder grip, blades breaking skin, you were too far gone to care, punishing pace continued, fucking into you just right and even past the sound of skin on skin you heard him say, 

“You don’t need any permission from me, not anymore.”

If it was possible to pass out in a dream you were certain you would have. 

You were thankful he was holding you as he was, in such complete control because you certainly had none as you rode out the pleasure that ripped through you and threatened to tear you asunder and fully break you open. An utterly hopeless, moaning and shaking heap as he fucked you through your high. You had only barely started to come down when he gave that final thrust and filled you, held inside of you snugly as that sweet familiar sinful warmth spread inside and drew another moan and shuddering breath from you. That moment was a favorite. That little second of quiet you two would share, post-cum, blissfully fucked out, was unjustifiably good. 

Your head lolling back as you stretched slightly, flexing your fingers, trying to roll wrists that were still bound, enjoying the feeling of being stuffed full of cum and of him, warm blood from those cuts on your shoulder sliding down your back, soaking into the remaining tattered clothing you wore and down over one of your exposed breasts. You were still thrumming with energy but not uncomfortably so, delighted, satiated and relaxed in his lap. 

You broke the silence and spoke first, it slipping out like a sigh, 

“Goddamn.”

A laugh from him, pulling back looking up at you as he said. 

“Goddamned is right. Perfect to describe you.”

And you joined in.

Because you were both right. 

To be perfectly fair if you couldn’t laugh about your eternal damnation with the very dream demon fuck buddy who sealed said fate than who COULD you laugh about it with?


End file.
